Caelestis
by The Cannibal Giraffe
Summary: Bella has never had a home, never had parents that loved her, was never really wanted. Now she makes a decision that she can't ever take back. A drabble fic, M just in case
1. Chapter 1

_Why did I come here?_

I never met them before, but I was able to find someone that gave me their information, including their photographs. I remember seeing her face, so much like mine, looking back at me. And his, so happy and carefree, with eyes like melted chocolate matching my own.

They gave me up, left me behind. They didn't want me then, they won't now.

I watch my parents pass gifts to each other and another little girl. The living room is lit up with tons of Christmas lights, the fireplace is lit, and the beautiful evergreen tree is filled with homemade ornaments.

It's everything I'd ever wanted, the only thing they couldn't give me. Didn't _want_ to give me.

Love.

Family.

I watch as she tears into her presents, jumping up and down excitedly when she reveals them. She runs to them, hugs them. They hug her back, kiss her.

With each present and each embrace, shreds of wrapping paper litter the floor. Each tear of the pretty paper is another tear in my heart and soul, falling to the ground at my feet to lay permanently.

My eyes water and my face is streaked with tears, but I'm too numb to feel them.

Each breath of mine puffs out in the frosty air, and I wish with every single one that it would be my last.


	2. Chapter 2

I wonder what her name is. I wonder how old she is. I wonder if they ever told her about me or if I'm just in their memories. I wonder if _they_ even remember me, talk about me.

I'm twenty three years old. I grew up in a bunch of different foster homes, being passed around like the collection plate at church. I kept to myself to prevent the inevitable heartbreak when it came time for me to leave. I wasn't abused, wasn't neglected. Wasn't groped by any fosters fathers or brothers.

I was never adopted, obviously. Everyone says the babies go first, but I was never chosen. From what I understand, I didn't cry much, didn't beg for attention, didn't really behave badly. A perfect child. But there I was, stuck in the system till I finally aged out.

My last foster mother gave me some money. It was only a few hundred dollars, but I was extremely grateful, especially when I could buy myself a bus ticket and still afford the deposit for a cheap apartment.

A new start.


	3. Chapter 3

My apartment, the one I started out in, is small and drafty, but it's something I can call my own. It has minimal furniture; hand-me-downs from neighbors and stuff I found at yard sales. Sure, it's all been used before I got it, but it's still good enough for me.

My couch was once a vibrant blue (I'm assuming), but now is faded and more of a subdued, paler blue. My table has watermarks and gouges in it, and the four chairs around it don't match it or each other in the slightest.

When you walk in, the kitchen/dining room is the first thing you see. It's not very big, just an oven, a small refrigerator, about five feet of counter space, and my little table in the middle of the space.

It blends into my living room, if you can even call it that. That's where my couch is and there's a low, faded wood coffee table, but that's all. No TV, no computer, nothing extra.

My bedroom comes next. There are no walls to separate it from the rest, but the space is a bit smaller because of the bathroom. I couldn't afford a new bed (and still can't). My landlord offered me her daughter's old twin sized mattress after she left for college. It's on the floor, pushed up against the far wall, and I have an old rocking chair sitting in front of the window.

The dirty, old window.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I have a job. It's not too far away from my apartment. I walk every day. If I can't afford a TV and cable, I can't afford a car. I do have a cell phone, though. It's a flip phone and I pay for my minutes as I go (and can afford them), but it's definitely better than nothing.

My job. I work at the little mom-and-pop bookstore around the block. They can't really afford to pay me much, definitely below minimum wage, but it's all I can get.

I went to high and did my very best. I was in the top 10% of my class, but I couldn't afford to go to college. No school offered me enough money for me to even try, so here I am. Stocking shelves at a tiny bookstore.

* * *

I'm back! Thank you for your reviews, the interest makes me feel giddy inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I used to be creative. I would draw and write stories about a better life; pretend that my parents wanted me and drew the places we'd go and write about the adventurad we'd go on.

Eventually, reality hit me. The stupid fantasies were just that: fantasies. I was tired of pretending my life was better than it was. But I couldn't draw anything else, no matter how hard I tried.

If I could've gone to college, I think I would have tried to go for art. It was such a release for me and I just wanted to be able to enjoy it again.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I got some bad news today. The bookstore is going to be closed down. They're not getting enough customers to afford to pay for rent, bills, books, and me. I'm going to be out of a job, no way to pay my own rent and bills. No way to get myself food or wash my clothes.

I wish it would end. I wish whatever higher being, that there may or may not be, decides that I've suffered enough for one lifetime and cuts me a break. I don't know how else I'm going to survive.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I-I can't focus. Everything seems so heavy and stressful and I just can't sort it all out. So many thoughts are running through my head, I can't even function properly.

I can't find a job, my rent is now two months late, all I could afford to buy was a loaf of bread and some peanut butter to eat. They're threatening to turn off my electricity and my phone has been out of minutes for two weeks.

I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't breathe without feeling the weight of everything crashing down around me.

My fingers thread through my hair and pull until the sting is all I can concentrate on. I can't let up, my thoughts- they'll consume me.


	8. Chapter 8

Warning: this chapter will have graphic cutting and suicide. You can skip over this and you won't miss anything.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

The cool blade runs slowly but deeply through my skin. I revel in the sting, gracious to feel something other than numb. Blood rushes out of the line going from my wrist to my elbow. I'm not worried about it. It's giving me what I want. What I _need_.

My fingers start to shake as I switch hands and do the same to my other arm. It's kind of pretty, actually. The crimson red running down my skinny, pale arms in smooth lines, dotting my floor initially. A pool starts to form under me, collecting my life's essence into one place.

I play with the blade, drawing crossing lines across my forearms and making the blood flow faster.

"So pretty," I whisper. My head feels fuzzy and my eyes are drooping, but I want to draw more. My arms are my canvas now. After so many years of not being able to draw anything, I can finally do it.

My hands begin to shake too much and I drop my blade on the floor. My head falls back and my body sags against my mattress.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"I'm sorry I wasn't enough for you," I say to them. Their faces appear in my mind.

My parents.

My foster families.

My bosses.

Myself.

I slump to the side, finally feeling the effect of the blood loss. My eyes stare ahead unseeingly.

"It'll be okay, Isabella," I hear someone whisper into my ear. Then everything goes dark and silent.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I'm stuck in limbo; I'm not alive anymore, I know that. But I don't feel dead. It feels like I'm floating in a dark space, unable to move, to breathe. I thought I would lose cognitive thought, but apparently not.

Something swells up inside me, starting deep in my stomach before spreading outwards. It suddenly floods my system, overwhelming me completely.

 _Pain._

My body writhes and convulses on the floor as pain pulses through it. A searing pain focuses in two areas on my back, right along my shoulder blades. A bloodcurdling scream fills the air as something shreds through my skin.

 _Haven't I suffered enough?_

My eyes are open but unseeing. Tears leak from them, coursing down my face and into my hair.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"The worst is over now, rest easy," I hear that voice in my ear again. I can feel the truth of their words as the waves of agony mellow out into nothing. There's still stinging in my back, but it's not as bad as before.

Hands manipulate my body until I'm laying on my side and my head is on something soft. Humming fills the air and my mind feels fuzzy. When the hands come back and start running through my hair, I fall back into an unconscious state.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

When I wake this time, my room is bright, and I'm alone. I sit up carefully, wincing when it tugs at the wounds on my back.

I don't see anyone here. I still don't know who was talking to me when I went through whatever that was, or even how I'm _alive._

I look down at my arms. The cuts; they're gone. It's like it never happened. But I'm not in my clothes anymore and there's blood on the floor. There's a light blue gown on me and it's the softest thing I've ever felt.

I push myself up off the floor and stumble to the bathroom. I turn on the cold water, filling my hands with it before splashing it on my face. _Maybe this is all a dream._

My eyes meet their reflection in the mirror, along with the large, white wings sticking out of my back, the feathers streaked with blood. _My_ blood.

I can't contain my scream.

* * *

I'm back at college, so I'm changing my updating schedule. It'll be done sporadically through the week, pretty much whenever I have time and whatever I have written instead of all at once on Wednesday.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

My hand covers my mouth in horror, shock, and awe.

 _Wings. I have wings._

My other hand shakily reaches back and strokes one.

 _They're so soft._

"I see you're awake now," the voice says from the doorway. I whirl around and see a woman standing there, dressed in a bright yellow sundress. Her own wings take up the space behind her. They're bigger than mine and the feathers are all white with gold tips.

Her hair is like melted caramel flowing around her head and shoulders. Her eyes shine like hazel colored gems over her perfect ski slope nose. Full pink lips complement her round face and she just looks angelic.

Which I guess she is.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"My name is Esme, sweetheart." She steps into the bathroom, tucking her wings behind her to avoid hitting them on the door frame. "How do you feel?"

 _How do I feel?_

I turn back to the mirror and really look at myself. I look the same. Well, maybe just a little less tired looking. My eyes are still dull, dirt brown. My collar bones are prominent through my skin, and I'm still thin, almost too thin. My hair looks shinier, but still not super healthy.

I feel sad that I don't look as radiant as she does. I feel disappointed that even in death, I'm not good enough in my eyes. I feel resigned that I'll always be different (in a not good way).

"Fine, I guess," I tell her instead.

"It's a lot to take in initially. I know I struggled with it at first, but I didn't really have anyone to help me out. I'll explain everything to you, but first, I want to get you cleaned up and out of this apartment.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

She leads me over to the tub and turns on the water. I watch as she adjusts the temperature and then plugs it, adding some soap to fill it with bubbles.

It all makes me feel like a little girl, waiting for her mother to bathe her. I think I enjoy how it makes me feel. Wanted. Cared for. Loved.

She turns off the water when the tub is about three-quarters full and tells me to strip. My cheeks flush, but I do as she says without fanfare.

Esme offers me a hand to assists me into the tub and I sit, allowing the bubbles to hide my nudity from her.

Her gentle hands remove the dried blood from my wings' exit wounds. It stings a bit still, but my shoulders immediately feel better to have it gone.

Next, she works to rid each and every feather of my blood. Her humming and the sound of the water running down my wings and back into the tub fills the silence between us.

Gradually, the water turns to a muted red. At that point, the plug is pulled to allow it to drain.

* * *

This is probably the last for tonight.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I get out and dry off my body. As I'm pulling the dress back on, I now notice that it's purposely cut with a low back so my wings can be free without putting holes in the material. It's smart, not what I expected, honestly.

Esme comes up behind me and starts patting my wings dry with another towel. She takes care to ensure they're almost completely dry and there are no remaining splotches of red as she smooths them all out.

They look so much prettier when they're clean and dry. I'd say the feathers closest to my back are about four inches long and they increase in size as they go out and down the wing. The largest ones are probably around a foot long.

"Why do your feather have gold on them?" I ask her.

"I've been around for a long time," she says with a wry grin. "And it's because of my position. You'll learn about that and get some color soon enough."

She finishes her task and then goes back in the other room.

Esme seems anxious when she returns. Her hands are wringing and her foot is bouncing and her hairline glistens with a bit of sweat. Her eyes flick to the door and then back to me repeatedly.

She's making me nervous.

* * *

I'm a procrastinator through and through. Instead of doing my calculus homework, I've been writing all day. Great for you guys, not so much for me.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

She never did tell me what was wrong. I found out on my own.

There, slumped on the floor right where I woke up, is my body.

My hands fly to my mouth and a strangled cry gets stuck in my throat. _I'm dead, I killed myself._ Tears fill my eyes as I stare at myself.

I take a hesitant step forward, standing just a few feet from my body.

It's hard for me to look at, hard for me to believe. If it wasn't for the cuts on my arms and the puddle of dark red blood at my feet, I would believe I was sleeping. My face is peaceful though, the stress and sadness gone for good.

I'm just glad my eyes are closed.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Esme told me how my body was still there in my apartment even though I'm...whatever I am.

" _Right now, we," she gestured between us, "are just the embodiment of our souls. This version of you is just as real as the one laying on the floor. The difference is everyone can see_ that _you, but only others like us can see_ this _you."_

She grabbed my hand after that, leading me through (literally) the door and out onto the street. I still froze in fear when the heavy foot traffic weaved through us (again, literally). It was like we weren't even there.

Now she's leading me to a portal house, whatever that means.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

A portal house.

She opened up the door and I could see another place through it.

She literally meant a _portal_ house.

And then she went through it and expected me to follow behind.

Can you say, _hell no?_ I'd rather go the long way than go through that thing. For all I know, I'll end up in a million pieces all over the world.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Can I just say that woman is a saint?

Esme stood there for at least ten minutes, trying to persuade me to come through the door. She even went through three more times to show me that it's safe.

I can't say it worked. Someone else came from the other side, threw me over their shoulder, and then carried me in. All while laughing.

I clenched my eyes shut, my protests stuck in my throat. If I can't see it coming, it can't hurt, right?

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" My feet are on the ground now.

I slowly open my eyes, hesitantly peering down at myself. When I see no holes, I let out a shaky laugh.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

 **Esme**

I watched Edward carry Isabella through the portal with amusement. He's always been a bit impatient and restless, always itching to do something. He'll be good for her, as she will be for him.

He's already attached, if you go by the look on his face. We've known about her since birth and he was immediately interested. It grew enough that we, Carlisle and I, knew he would feel the draw. He would be to her as Carlisle was and still is to me. A mentor, a companion, a lover if they so choose. And we all knew she would be here soon, but her taking her own life…

It wasn't supposed to happen like that.

I was terrified of how she would react to seeing her physical form lying on her bedroom floor, but it wasn't too bad. Just shock, really. Others have screamed and cried and tried to wake themselves up.

She wouldn't have been here for another year and a half. All the stress and anxiety she'd been experiencing recently was weakening her heart. She would've found someone to love in a few months and he would've been killed in a mugging. The loss of him was going to cause too much stress on her already weakened heart and the subsequential heart attack would've killed her.

I don't know what caused this deviation from her fate. Maybe it was for the better, maybe not. It spared her heartbreak, but now she has the mental scars of taking her own life. Her physical ones are gone, but she'll always remember how she got here.

Deciding to find Carlisle, I leave Isabella with Edward so he can start giving her information about, well, everything.

* * *

Sometimes I get stuck so I switch POVs. It usually helps. There's also some extra information.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

The guy that carried me through told me his name's Edward. He can't seem wipe the grin off his face, even though it's been about twenty minutes since he did it. I don't know what he thinks is so funny.

He did tell me that no one has ever been dismembered by going through one of the portals, but if I still had my doubts, he'd carry me through again. Cue vehement head shaking.

I also realized after the fact that I was wearing a dress and he or Esme could've gotten a glimpse of the goods. I'm sure Edward would have found that hysterical as well so I didn't ask if he did.

He always seems so happy. I don't really understand why. We're all here because we're dead; what's so happy about that?

* * *

 **AN:**

I was working on my homework until my roommate opened the window six inches. It's 15 degrees and feels like 1. I had to evacuate to my bed. There are 24 calculus problems calling my name from my desk. They're due at 8 am tomorrow. I'm procrastinating at this point.

I'm still working on 25 and 26, but they'll be up tonight still.

-Cannibal


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"Where did Esme go?"

"She went to find Carlisle. We'll meet up with them later."

"Who's Carlisle?" He stops walking and turns to me.

"Carlisle is to Esme as I am to you." Huh?

"A tour guide?" He's been walking around, showing me important places like the main portal to Earth, where to get some clothes and food, and where everyone goes to hang out. He also said we are currently heading towards the residential area that he and I will live in, but he never specified if we're living together.

Edward chuckles at my ignorance. "No, I mean he's whatever she needs him to be. He was her tour guide, but now he's her everything and anything."

"And what are you to me?" I challenge. His smile grows wider and he throws an arm around my shoulder.

"Whatever you need me to be."


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I pondered his words for a while, not paying attention to anything Edward is saying/pointing out.

 _Whatever you need me to be._

It's not that I'm confused about the words, I just don't understand. How does he know what I need? Do I tell him or does he just guess? How do _I_ know what I need? I don't even know what this place is; I don't know anything other than I died, grew freaking wings, and ended up _here_.

" _Bellllaaa."_

And how would he know that I don't need him to be _that_ anymore? What if I need him to be multiple things at once? Does he physically change to be whatever it is? Or is it something different, something more subtle?

" _Belllllllaaaaa."_

Who decides what's really a necessity? Like what if something I say I need isn't what someone else thinks I need? What would he be then? And what if Edward disagrees with me and someone else about what I need? Does he decide then?

"Bella!" My eyes snap towards Edward. Then I realize we've stopped walking and are just standing in the middle of the walkway. The grin is still intact and it grows as my cheeks heat up.

Oops, guess I was thinking too hard.

* * *

 **AN:**

This isn't the last, I promise! These are kinda just fillers so I can get to the point where everything is explained. It's coming, I promise.

Also! I may not respond to reviews (cause that makes me as anxious as making a phone call), but I really love hearing your feedback! A great big thank you to everyone that's decided to stick around and support me!

My bored self decided to post another story last night. It's called Best Fake Smile and it will _not_ be on a schedule because that's another obligation I don't need.

-Cannibal


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"Why'd you call me Bella?"

"Because I wanted to. Do you not like it?" He glanced at me before continuing. "I mean, it won't stop me from calling you that if you hate it."

"Then why ask if I like it?"

"So I know if I'm calling you Bella to annoy you or if I'm calling you Bella because you like it."

I roll my eyes at his logic. But I can't say I hate it. He definitely could've picked something worse.

"I'll take your silence as you like it."

Smug bastard.

* * *

 **AN:**

So, yeah. I drank an energy drink so I wouldn't pass out while finishing my calculus homework. Finally finished it at 4 am, got into bed and realized I can't sleep. It's 5 now and my alarm goes off at 7. I'm wide awake and hating my life choices. So here's this. Later than I said it would be. I'm also updating from my phone, which is incredibly difficult, by the way. I'll post chapter 26 (and maybe more) tomorrow after I get some sleep.

-Cannibal


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

 **Esme**

I throw open the door to Carlisle's home office.

"She's here," I breathlessly tell him. That's what you get for running up two flights of stairs.

"Who?" he blinked in surprise.

"Isabella."

"But she's not supposed to be here until next year. Her housing unit hasn't been prepared yet, we don't have her assignment, we're not ready."

"I know that," I snap at him. He's being dense. He's usually over prepared, ready before I am.

"Where is she now?"

"Edward is showing her around. He's going to bring here her in an hour, or uh, 47 minutes," I correct after checking my watch.

"Shit," he sighs. Yeah, shit.

We have so much to do and absolutely no time to do it.

* * *

 **AN:**

My right eye twitches violently when I'm exhausted. It did it the entire time I wrote this. I'm running on energy drinks.

I felt like I should've added more, but then I thought the next part would fit better like this.

-Cannibal


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

 **Esme**

"Carlisle, did you talk to the High Council yet?"

"No, that's next on the list. I just got done talking to the housing authority about getting her place set up."

"And?"

"They can't until another one opens up. That could be days, weeks, maybe even months. We've had a large influx of newcomers recently and they all take priority over Isabella since she wasn't supposed to be here yet."

I blow out a breath. I have no idea how she's going to take that. Edward will definitely be ecstatic though. She gets to live with him until she can move into her own place. I hope he's not driving her crazy. Sometimes he just gets over excited and can't control himself. He's like a little boy all hopped up on sugar.

Of course, if she has a real problem with living with him, I can kick Carlisle out and she can stay with me while he stays with him. I don't think either of the men would like that very much and I would surely have to deal with Carlisle's sad pout face until he could come back. I have no idea how he survived in this life without me.

For how old he is, you'd think he'd be able to act less like a child when he was slightly put out. Jeez.

* * *

 **AN:**

Would you believe it if I said I'd been listening to Bastille for about twelve hours when I wrote this (which was a week ago)? My suitemate came in while I was singing and making hand gestures. She stares at me a lot.

Life gets a little more stressful as the weeks go by and I'm not scheduled to work. I need to quit or find a second job pretty much. I'm trying not to let it affect my writing, but it's hard to focus.

There's more to come today/tomorrow/whenever I can get it done, so hang tight.

-Cannibal


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"You've shown me your house, so where's mine?"

"You'll have to ask Carlisle about that."

"Well, where is he?"

"He is with Esme."

"That's not a real answer."

"That's not a real question."

"If you don't take me to them, I'm going to knock on every single door in a ten mile radius."

"You better start knocking."

"Edward!"

"Ow! I'm kidding, woman, don't hit me. I'm going to take you there; we have to meet them anyway."

* * *

 **AN:**

Sorry this is so short.

Ugh. So pretty much my worst nightmare happened and my laptop is out of commission. The cooling fan has been acting up and making a horrible noise since Thursday night. I had to use it earlier today to do some math coding homework and it was overheating so I'm only using it if I absolutely have to. Unfortunately, that means no writing on it. I'm getting a new fan, but until then updates will be slow. Sorry!

-Cannibal


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Esme and Carlisle live quite close to Edward. Just two streets over and four houses in. It's a six minute walk according to him. Of course, he also said that it would take twice the time now because my legs are half the size of his. He got another smack for that, which I figured out makes him behave for a while. Not long, but a while.

Their house is quite similar to Edward's. Two stories, light colored, full of windows. Esme let us in and I could see the the basic layout is also pretty much the same. The entrance leads to the living room, there's a large doorway into the dining room, and the kitchen is connected to the dining room.

They choose to decorate with bright colors while Edward was more subdued. He makes up for it with his personality, really.

"Carlisle is waiting for us upstairs, you two. And I hope you were on your best behavior, Edward."

"If that was your best, I'm afraid of you misbehaving." Esme shoots him a stern look and he manages to look a little sheepish.

"You'll have to forgive him. He's extremely excited that you're here, like a little boy with his favorite candy," she stage whispers.

"Esme," he whines when I giggle.

"It was nothing I couldn't handle." We share a laugh as he sulks up the stairs behind us.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"Isabella, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Carlisle." A man with warm hazel eyes and perfectly set blond hair stands from behind a desk and holds one of my hands between both of his. He has a kind smile on his face, one I can't help but return.

"Likewise," I say. "I'd say I've heard a lot about you, but the Cheshire Cat over there wouldn't say much else than your name." He chuckles.

When he releases my hand, we all sit in the chairs placed around the big, hardwood desk.

"I'm sure you have a million questions. I'll explain everything that's going on and if you still have some after, I'll do my best to answer them. Sound good?" I nod my head in agreement.

"Okay. First and foremost, I would like to say I'm sorry you felt that you had to do what you did. I wish life had been easier on you and you had more opportunities to flourish and thrive, but alas, I have no control over any of that.

"On the other hand, I am glad you have finally joined us. We've known about you and your destiny to arrive here since you were born, hence Edward's excitement." Carlisle's eyes crinkle when he smiles and sends a wink towards me. I guess both Esme and Carlisle like to tease him. "You deserve to have some good and happiness in your life."

"Thank you," I tell him softly.

"I don't know what Edward has already explained to you, if anything. We are in what you could consider heaven and we are technically angels."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We aren't what are commonly construed as angels. This isn't heaven in the sense that all people that are good end up here. We are the ones born with pure souls. We don't have to earn our place here, but it just so happens that there are no criminals or antisocial people here.

"We have wings and can watch over people, but we cannot influence the lives on Earth in any way, shape, or form. Our fates are set in time and it would be nothing short of a miracle to change them."

"So there are no such things as guardian angels?"

"That is correct. We can watch, but not protect."

"That seems kinda pointless, doesn't it?" He chuckles at that.

"I guess you can see it as that."

* * *

 **AN:**

What we tend to call antisocial is actually asocial behavior. I'm using the proper definition here. Also, I'm taking creative liberties and changing the meaning of heaven and angels and all that jazz, so sue me (but not really cause I'm broke).

It's been a while. I'm not abandoning this, I promise. It's just my depression being more of a bitch than usual. Stupid serotonin.

I go home in less than two weeks. I'm holding on to that.

-Cannibal


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"So what exactly is our purpose if it's not to protect?"

"We all have duties. They are assigned by the Council and are not interchangeable. As of right now, you don't have one. When you do, I will be informed to relay to you and until then, your wings will remain pure white."

Awesome. Note the sarcasm.

"Esme told me our roles determine the color on our wings."

"That is correct. Esme, for example, guides the freed souls here and helps them adjust to their new lives."

"Like she did for me."

"Yes."

"And her feathers are gold because of that?"

"Yes."

"And Edward is the welcoming-committee-slash-tour-guide and has brown on his wings." Carlisle and Esme both laugh at my description.

"No, not quite. He only did that for you. Would you like to explain your role, Edward?"

"Nah, you're doing great." Carlisle rolls his eyes but explains anyway.

"Edward helps maintains the portals to ensure they remain calibrated to certain locations. It is vital work to ensure we go where we are supposed to, when we need to."

"I told you they were safe," Edward juts in. I roll my eyes with a slight smile (it seems like we all do that around him). I guess the smiley boy knew what he was talking about after all.

"What do you do, Carlisle?"

"I deal with memories. I was assigned with giving or taking them away from incoming souls, based on their ability to accept them and transition into their new lives."

"Like in _Men in Black?"_ All three of them look at me in confusion. Obviously it was after their time. "Nevermind."

* * *

 **AN:**

Decided I wasn't doing traditional angels in chapter 13 and then forgot about that decision. I'm nothing if not a procrastinator. High school taught me how to write bomb ass papers three hours before they were due.

I also hate doing the he said/she said after every line so I tend to exclude it more often than not.

Sorry, this is all I have for now. Good news is my roommate is currently at a party so I can actually hear myself think and there's a higher possibility of more tonight.

-Cannibal


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"How does the memories thing work?"

"It's quite simple, actually. Once a new soul arrives, they are given the option to have the memory of their previous life wiped or they can choose to keep them. If they decide to forget, I have the ability to painlessly wipe them. Usually if they're kept, they will also gain insight on other matters important to them."

"Such as?"

"Hmm. Parents can learn of the fate of their children. People that died in an unexpected event can learn of how their family is coping without them. Things like that."

"I could know why my parents gave me up?" I ask in a whisper. It's the only thing I've ever wanted in life.

"Yes, you could." We're all silent. I'm glad they're giving me a moment to take this all in.

I would be amazing to know why I was abandoned as a baby. My only wish would be fulfilled and I could be content with that knowledge. Hopefully.

But if I choose to forget, I wouldn't even remember that. I wouldn't have that heavy feeling of being unwanted and abandoned before I could even understand it. I would get a fresh start up here; a life full of happiness and pretend annoyance (most of the time) at Edward being Edward. These people care about me. They don't even know me, not really, but they care more than Charles and Renee did.

I could forget the pain and embrace my new future. I could get the answers I've wanted forever and get some closure.

I don't really know what I need right now.

"What did you all decide?" I ask the room. I don't care who answers. I just want some insight.

Esme answers first.

"I chose to forget my past. Even though I don't remember it, I know it was horrid and painful and I did what I felt was best for me."

"Do you ever regret it?"

"No. I can't bring myself to. You can ask Carlisle about it later if you'd like, but my life wasn't worth living, much like you felt. There was nothing left for me to remember."

"I chose to remember," Edward says next. "I died when a man passed out at the wheel and pushed my car into guardrail on the highway. It flipped and fell into the river. The impact knocked me out and I drowned."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. That's truly a horrible way to die.

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I wanted to know how my parents would cope with my death. I was an only child and they cherished me more than anything. They took it hard, but they lived on for twenty more years. It didn't feel right to choose to forget the people I loved and raised me, especially when they were suffering without me. "

"I also decided to remember. My life didn't end in tragedy like you three. I followed in my father's footsteps and became the lead pastor in my church. I studied the word of God and lived an honest and fulfilling life. I spread the faith, assisted the poor and needy, and mentored the young in my village. I was proud of my accomplishments and I died from natural causes at the age of 36."

I nod in understanding, taking in all of their responses.

"You don't have to decide right now, Isabella. You can think it over."

"Thank you."


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

A clean slate or the only thing I've ever wanted.

I never thought I'd have to choose. I never knew it would be the hardest decision I'd have to make.

Carlisle told me that I need to be sure of my decision. It is extremely strenuous on the mind to remember and then gain a massive amount of knowledge, just to have it all wiped. Not to mention we'd have to do today all over again after; the introductions, the explanations, everything. They can't pick and choose what to erase and what to leave intact. They choose from a certain point in time: our death. That and everything before is erased so all we remember is this life.

It's even worse to have it wiped and then have it reversed. They did it once to a woman named Renata. Her brain went into a form of shock and was permanently damaged. She became a potato, for lack of better word. Her body and brain shut down and became unresponsive. From what Carlisle told me, she remained that way until someone put her out of her misery. She was turned into a pure form of energy and released from our world.

That doesn't happen a lot. The release, that is. Well, I guess changing your decision doesn't either. Anyway, there's really no need for people to constantly be released. It's not like we can really die again.

Carlisle said that release is only used for drastic measures. They try not to, simply because it's almost a punishment for the soul and their, their- ugh, I don't know what to call them. Carlisle said soul mate, but it's their "Carlisle is to Esme as Edward is to me" person.

There are special people that do it, like how Carlisle does memories and Edward does portals.

Off topic- but soul mates? Are Edward and I soul mates? Shouldn't there be some sort of draw or something? I mean, Esme and Carlisle clearly fit together well, but how the hell do they know they're soul mates.

I think I'll just keep using Edward's lame description for now.

Everything and anything.

That might be worse, actually.

Back on track. I need to decide.

* * *

AN:

I constantly have a million and one ideas running through my head, but none of them are for this story. Every time I sit down to work on it, I lose my inspiration and just stare at the blinking cursor.

I decided to puzzle it out. I wrote what I could see into chapters and then filled in the blanks to make it flow. If this is posted, then you can safely assume it worked. If not, well I guess I'm talking to myself again.

This is long overdue and I'm so sorry. I love that even when I'm struggling with it, you all continue to read and support this story. Thank you so much for putting up with my horribleness.

-Cannibal


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

I'm laying down in Edward's bed since Carlisle said I'd be in a not-quite-catatonic-catatonic-state for a while and I needed to be comfortable. No matter which decision I made, I'd be going through this process.

And yes, Edward's bed. Turns out I _am_ living with him indefinitely. Esme offered to make Carlisle share with Edward so I could stay with her, but yeah, I'm not a jerk.

There will be no funny business though. His genitals are at stake.

"Edward will be here when you wake up."

Oh yeah, they're also leaving me here alone with him while this is happening.

Warm fingers touch my forehead and I close my eyes. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't the chilly feeling of frost clouding my mind and making me drowsy.

I give in to the feeling, slipping under and into unconsciousness.


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"I don't want to give her up, Charlie. I already love her more than anything. Please, please don't make me," she begs to the man holding her.

"We can't keep it, sweetheart. I want to, I wish we could raise our baby, but we can't. We can barely support ourselves and that won't get better if you're out of work caring for her."

"But I want her! We can make it work, please, Charlie, please?" Her cries tear him apart, but he has to hold strong. She may hate him, but eventually she'll know that he's doing what's best for her, for them.

"We can't, Renee," he says thickly. "How will we pay for the medical bills, rent, and food if you're out of work? And then we'll have to pay for things for the baby, clothes, toys, cribs, diapers, blankets, food, appointments- there's so much money that goes into raising a baby and we aren't financially ready to do so.

"We should put her up for adoption."


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"Take her away," Renee says quietly.

"Are you sure? You don't want to see her?" Of course she does, but then she won't be able to let her go.

"Take her away!" she yells at the nurse. She doesn't want to see her, doesn't want to hold her, doesn't want to name her. She knows she'll get attached and she knows Charlie will be upset if she makes it harder than it already is.

She just wishes she found someone to take her immediately.

Charlie is there to comfort Renee, also refusing to see his daughter. For the entire pregnancy, he tried to pretend that she isn't his child. That she isn't half of him and half of the woman he loves. That she wouldn't be a perfect mix of all their best features in a gorgeous little girl.

It didn't work. Even though he had virtually no interaction with the baby, he was in love with the idea of her.

But alas, he had no time to mourn his loss. His wife was taking it harder than he could ever imagine. God knows what he'll do if she leaves him over this.

* * *

 **AN:**

I was reading through some of the first chapters and noticed some errors, so I fixed them/changed some insignificant details. It's nothing drastic at all, just little things that would bother me for the rest of my life.


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Renee was never really the same after she lost her baby. She pretended she was okay, just for Charlie's sake. So well, in fact, she even believed it sometimes.

Charlie allowed himself to break down when Renee was asleep. All day, he'd pretend that he didn't feel like a part of him was now missing. He also put on a façade of strength for his wife.

They didn't name her. They don't know where she is. They don't know who she's with. They can't even begin to search for her.

They may never see her again.

* * *

 **AN:**

Today has been a complete and utterly utter shit day and this is my escape from reality. I have four others, but I'll be writing till I feel better or my fingers fall off. Whichever comes first. Guess my shitty life does have some benefits.

-Cannibal


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

They had an unspoken rule.

Don't mention the baby.

They skirted around the memory of her. They lived their lives as if she was never a part of it.

It may seem cruel, like they desecrated her, but it was really to save their sanity.

For months, they were barely functioning. They were too hung up on what could've been to move on.

Therapy would've been ideal, obviously, but forgetting is what they could afford.

* * *

 **AN:**

I forgot to say these chapters are even shorter because there are time skips between them. This is about a few months after the last.


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Charlie finally got promoted at work. He was getting paid the amount of both their paychecks combined, plus a few hundred more. Renee was able to cut back on her own hours without a drastic cut in their budget.

They could even indulge on a few things, like eating out, getting newer and nicer clothes, and some newer furniture.

They could put more money aside for a car, a new apartment, maybe even a house or a baby in the future. They felt like they could finally breathe.


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

It's three years after the promotion. Close to four years after the baby was born.

Charlie and Renee invested in a car. It was a few years old at the time, but the previous owners kept it in good condition and didn't actually drive it much.

They had almost enough money set aside to pay the down payment on a small house nearby. It was leaps and bounds better than the shabby little apartment the resided in, but still in the same neighborhood.

The future was starting to look up.


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

 **Esme**

"It's been a long time, should we check on them?"

"Edward will call if there's a problem. There's no need to worry, my dear."

"What if it's too much for them to handle alone?"

"Esme, stop worrying. Isabella has to go through it just like Edward did. Just like you did with your decision."

Esme makes a noise of frustration at Carlisle's unintentional patronizing. She just wants to be the mother the girl never had. Is that so bad?

* * *

 **AN:**

A break from the memories.

It's seems that I lied in the first note. Writing isn't helping anymore so I'm gonna go do my best turtle impression.

Good night.

-Cannibal


	42. Chapter 42

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

 **Edward**

A little grunt swings my focus from my novel to the beautiful girl laying in my bed. Occasionally, she'll make a quiet noise, but it's hard to decipher their meanings. Especially when her face gives nothing away.

And yeah, I'm sitting in here and kinda watching over her. It's not weird. It's _my_ room, after all. And Esme threatened to castrate me if she woke up alone after going through this.

It's not like I'm staring at her. Anymore. I stopped about two hours in, which was- well, that was only about twenty seven minutes ago, but still. It's the first time she hasn't been able to tell me to look away or pester me with a million questions. I quite enjoy looking at her lovely, delicate features.

I was almost disappointed that Carlisle didn't get quite the same inquisition as I did, but he did offer information more freely.

But Bella in my bed. I can't say I hate the sight. I would have to say the opposite; I _love_ Bella in my bed (and not just in a perverted way). It's better than anything I've ever imagine in the past thirty three years (also not inappropriate). Of course, I was usually accompanying her in my bed during those imaginings, but I'm sure we'll get there one day.

Thirty three years is a long time to wait. I've had plenty of time between sleeping and working to imagine, and imagine I did. I won't go into detail for your sake (and I honestly don't feel like it right now).

There will be no pressure or expectations set upon her. That would be wrong and quite dishonorable of me to do so. I meant it when I said I'll be anything she needs me to be.

If she needs me to be her friend, then I will. If she wants me to hop on the next plane to Timbuktu, then I will. It would kill me, but I would for her.

And when she wakes up, I'll be whatever she needs and do whatever she wants then.

* * *

 **AN:**

Hello! I just realized how long it's been. Wow, sorry.

I almost fell out my bed earlier. Which means I almost smashed my head against my night stand and gave myself a concussion. That's how I knew today- or uh, yesterday at this point- would be a good day. And it actually kinda was, mood-wise. So that means I'm writing.

I call myself a dumbass and a bitch too much. Without consulting my negative side, I decided to be more positive and nice to myself. I managed to call myself a bitch three more times (aloud), smack various body parts every time I did, call myself a bitch a few more times for doing _that_ , and then give up. Yup.

-Cannibal


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

It was a bittersweet moment.

She'd been in this position before, though with slightly different circumstances.

She's pregnant again, but this time she'll be able to keep her baby.

A tear was shed for the child they'll never know. A tear was shed for the life blooming in her belly.

Bittersweet.


	44. Chapter 44

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

This birth was quite similar to her first. Painful, uncomfortable, long, etc.

But it also quite different. It didn't mean something the had come to dread. It didn't mean the parting of them and their child. It didn't mean never getting to see her again.

Also a bittersweet moment.

They both held their baby for the first time, marveling over her rosy complexion, her angry fists, her cranky wails. They took turns rubbing fingers over soft, smooth cheeks and a little button nose. The messy smattering of hair atop her head was her darkest feature, something she already shared with her father.

Neither could bring themselves to remember the hair of their first child. They weren't even sure they'd actually seen it.

If they dwelled on the thoughts of her, the guilt would consume them. They did what they had to for her and themselves.

Ironically, they'd been given similar names.

Annabell Elisa Swan.

Isabella Elizabeth Doe.

* * *

 **AN:**

Since I have absolutely no idea what they'd do in this sort of case, I made her last name the generic Doe. Like John/Jane Doe. Just so you know. And I changed her middle name.

A rite of passage in my high school (before it was just high school) was watching the baby video in seventh grade health class. The teacher is almost sadistic.

So the video goes from conception to birth and that's fine. But it's a real, uncensored birth from like the eighties. What he does is he lets us see the baby come out. Then he takes his little remote and rewinds it so the baby goes back in and then he makes it pop back out. Repeat like five more times. Add sadistic laughter.

Mention the baby video to anyone in that school and 99% of them were traumatized. Including me.

Also, there was _just_ a shadow shift like someone waited by my bed and everyone else is asleep. I didn't move anything more than my finger. Someone save me?

-Cannibal


	45. Chapter 45

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I can feel a tear well up in my left eye as the images start to slow. It slowly drips down my cheek as a familiar scene finally emerges.

It's the first and only time I was aware of who my parents were. The first and only time I got to see them in person, even from a distance. It's them and Annabell in that house.

The lights are brighter from this perspective. The tree is greener, bigger, fresher. The fire is blazing and warm, the scent of it mingling with the noble fir's heady, woodsy one.

The warmth in the room and their hearts fights off the chill I stood in outside. To hear the excitement in all their voices and the joy on their faces after all they've been through together makes me want to smile. I would if I wasn't paralysed from this process.

What I couldn't see from outside was the inscribed wood star on top of the tree.

 _Baby Swan, you'll always be in our hearts. 9-13-1994._

There's a small angel accompanying the words and it tears at my heart.

All this time, I thought they gave me up, replaced and forgot about me. I've haunted their thoughts as much as they have mine.

They light candles in my honor and tell stories about when my mother was pregnant with me. They wonder about where I am, what I'm doing, who I'm with. They hope I'm happy.

It's not amazing, but _amazing_ to feel the warmth swelling in my chest.

I just wish I knocked on the door.

* * *

 **AN** :

This is much later than I wanted it to be. Life is kicking my ass. Hate it. On the plus side, I bought an external cooling fan for my laptop so I can actually use it now. Awesome. Now I gotta find a new job.

I'm working on more chapters, they should be up soon. Hopefully.

Thanks for reading and sticking with me.

-Cannibal


	46. Chapter 46

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Humming. I hear humming.

 _Are those fingers in my hair?_

Blunt nails gently scratch my scalp and I want to melt into a pile mush.

"Fuck, that feels good," I groan into the mattress. The laugh that accompanies my words makes me lift my head and glare at the offender. The hand drops from my head and lays between us on the mattress.

Tousled hair, tired eyes, rosy cheeks from sleep.

The second I see the smile gracing her features, I know in this moment she is the most beautiful she's ever been. And I want her to smile at me at the time.

"Get back to work, woman," I demand with a cheeky grin.


	47. Chapter 47

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I felt good when I regained consciousness. I felt...lighter, less troubled. The weight of being abandoned completely dissipated form my shoulders and I was left with the carefree happiness.

Edward immediately saw the difference when he woke up after me. (It was quite touching that he fell asleep in the chair next to his bed. I'm sure his back was protesting its hunched over position from his head being buried in the firm mattress, but he didn't show any hint of pain or discomfort when he initiated a tickle war.)

His grins took a different edge; if he had any hesitation with his teasing before, it is absolutely gone now.

Quite frankly, I enjoyed it when he held me upside down and carried me down to the kitchen. I enjoyed it when he threw chocolate chips and grapes at me when I made fun of his apron and domesticity. I enjoyed the feel of his rough tongue on my face after I called him a messy eater. I enjoyed the way we splashed each other with soapy water instead of actually doing the dishes.

But most of all, I enjoyed being in his company. Wearing his clothes while our other ones were being washed. Holding his hand while we sat on the couch and talked about anything and everything.


	48. Chapter 48

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

 **Esme**

I know immediately that Edward didn't call us as soon as Bella woke up.

First of all, it's been almost two days since she started the process and it only takes a few hours to go through it. Second, there's a different dynamic between them.

Tentative touches were gone and shy smiles took their place. Each one of his playful gestures was met with a giggle instead of an eye roll. There's no pretenses, no hesitation in their interactions. It's just straight adoration, especially from Edward.

Inside, I'm bursting with joy, wanting to scream all my excitement at this new development. I catch Carlisle's eye and I can't contain a grin.

 _Finally!_

* * *

Not sure I like this chapter. I'm sitting in the teen (I still have two months and eight days of being one!) section of a library because it had a nice cushy chair that's slightly secluded and even has a little table thing for my laptop. Plus there's an outlet nearby. Even though every time I look up, I see _I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter_ , in white, bold, capital letters. _Anyway,_ I'll have my ass in this chair for probably five more hours. I'll write as much as I can and post it as I do. Also, I have absolutely no idea how much longer this will be.

Cannibal


	49. Chapter 49

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Esme has this look on her face. I can tell it's taking everything in her to not be bouncing and screaming like a two year old hyped up on sugar.

Carlisle wants to have another _discussion_. I think he just wants an excuse to be out of the blast zone when she finally explodes.

I follow him anyway. Edward doesn't seem to have an office, so he leads me to the guest room, which apparently has a small balcony.

The weather always seems to be fair and pleasant here. It's always the perfect temperature to be comfortable in light clothing.

A slight breeze blows some of my hair away from my face and over my shoulders. I close my eyes to savor it.

There's a faint smile on Carlisle's face when he leans on the railing and turns his face towards me.

"You look better."

"I feel better."


	50. Chapter 50

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

"Did you actually want to talk or were you just making an excuse to hide from Esme?" I tease him.

"A bit of both," he says with a chuckle. His face grows pensive after a moment.

"She was very concerned with your well-being. Edward's too. You've become her children in a sense."

"She's very nurturing," I acknowledge.

"Would you like to hear her story?"

"Would she mind?"

"Definitely not. She told me to feed your curiosity."

"Can't go against her wishes, can we?" He laughs again before sighing and looking out over the yard in front of us. I can almost see the weight of words he's going to say. His eyes are slightly unfocused and limbs hang heavy. If the railing wasn't there to support him, he'd be slumped over like an old man. Which I guess he is chronologically, just not physically.

My laptop died and my motivation was long gone when it was charged again. The struggle of being a procrastinator.


	51. Chapter 51

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

"Esme chose to forget and I don't judge her for that. I love her all the same. I am actually quite glad she doesn't have her past hanging around, taking away from her happiness and her positivity.

"She grew up in a time of arranged marriages to men much older than their wives. She married later than her peers. At the age of twenty, the fifty-eight year old Charles Evanson had the honor of calling her his wife. Except he didn't treat her with honor or compassion. He beat her daily for minor infractions. Fists for dirty dishes, kicks for late dinner. Lashes with a switch for unfinished chores. Beatings with a belt for the hell of it."

"Why didn't her family protect her?"

"In those times, it was expected of her to be an obedient wife. If she was getting beaten, it meant she deserved it."

"That's awful," I whisper. I would've chosen to forget too.

He carries on without acknowledging it. "She was grateful he rarely wanted sex, but when he did, here was no refusing. It was easier for her to lay there and suffer than refuse and get beaten while he did it. She wasn't allowed a form of birth control. It was a game of chance. She didn't want to have a child. Didn't want to doom it to a life of hatred and violence. Of course, life never goes the way we want it to.

"After three and a half years, Esme fell pregnant. She kept it a secret at first, but it became obvious very quickly. She was underweight and bruised. Her belly swelled though her cheeks were sunken and sallow, and you could almost count her ribs through her shirt.

"Near the end of the second trimester, Charles became deranged. He beat Esme for no cause, battered her with his boots, belt, whatever he could get his hands on. A kick to the stomach to her flying down the basement stairs cause her to miscarry."

Tears come to my eyes and he looks towards the sky.

"I can still remember how she looked as she laid there unconscious. The blood seeped out of her, staining her dress and collecting in a puddle beneath her. She stayed there for three days before her mother came by and called the police when Charles wouldn't say where she was."


	52. Chapter 52

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

"By some miracle, she wasn't dead. Any longer and she would've been. As soon as the doctors told her she lost the baby, she wanted to be."

"Do you know what she wanted to name it?"

"If it was a girl, Anastasia Marie. Eric Michael for a boy." 


	53. Chapter 53

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

"How did she die?"

Carlisle is silent for a long moment. I count the long, heavy breaths he takes in the meantime.

 _Four... five… six… sigh._

"As soon as she was released from the hospital, she took her father's car and drove to the cliffs across town. She looked at peace with her decision as she whispered her love for her missing child and free fell towards the water as it surged towards the rocks."

Stony faced, yet tears well in his eyes.

"I hate that she lived such a horrid life, but I am ever so grateful it brought her here to me."

I wrap my arms around Carlisle from the side in a hug of understanding and sorrow. One of his squeezes me tight for a brief moment.


	54. Chapter 54

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

It's silent as Carlisle and I make our way downstairs. I swear, I can hear our footsteps echoing through the entire house.

No one is in the living room. We look at each other for a brief second before searching the rest of the downstairs.

In the kitchen window, I see Esme kneeling in front of a patch of dirt in the backyard with Edward looking down upon her. In silent agreement, we take a moment to watch them converse with each other.

Half of Edward's face is visible to us. We can see his lips move silently and the smile he doesn't bother to hide transforms his face. She turns her head to smile up at him as he says the wondrous words we can't hear.

I take them in as a whole; their wings are spread wide open, refracting the light and absorbing all the warmth the sun has to offer. They look like they're glowing in the daylight.

I think about what they went through. I think about myself and my life, and Carlisle's devotion to his God. They told me it was all predetermined, who would come to this second chance at life, but we all deserve this. We all get to experience this new love for each other and this amazing, unadulterated happiness.

I push Carlisle's and my talk out of my head. I push any lingering sadness from the memories of our lives out of my mind. I've had a lifetime of sad. I'm ready to embrace this happiness, even with just a smile.

So I do.

* * *

 **AN**

Someone better keep a tally of how many times I've had to say sorry for disappearing. This time was because this chapter wasn't satisfactory to me and I had to figure out where this story is going. I have the last chapter written, I'm just working towards it now; tying up loose ends and answering all the questions I can think of. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking around, to all the newcomers and the ones that have been on this train-wreck since the beginning, to everyone who finds this story and decides it's worth reading and waiting for.

Cannibal


	55. Chapter 55

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Esme is hovering like a hummingbird. She made dinner for all of us when she finished in the garden, shooed us out of the kitchen so she could clean up herself. Carlisle tried to be subtle, bringing up things they need to do at their own home. She's just found countless other things to reorganize, tidy up, and fuss unnecessarily about.

As much as I've already come to love the woman and sympathize with her losses, I need time alone with Edward. Not to do _that_ , just to chill.

Edward must know where my thoughts are because he takes hold of her shoulders as she takes off to the next victim of her worrying.

"Esme," he coos. "We're all set here. You go home with Carlisle, we'll be fine."

She looked up at him with those wide, brown eyes. I can see the protests just waiting to bubble from her lips. But she sees something in his face that convinces her, along with Carlisle's soothing hands wrapping around her waist. Those eyes meet mine and I see so much emotion hiding in them. Maybe we'll be able to talk tomorrow, just me and her.

Carlisle and Esme give us their soft good nights as Edward wraps a comforting arm around my waist.

The front door closes with a soft click, stealing my bout of certainty with it.


	56. Chapter 56

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

We stand in silence. I can feel his eye on me while I keep mine focused on my fingers rubbing the hem of my shirt.

I'm sure he's waiting for me to make the next move. I'm not sure I'm going to.

The arm around my waist tightens, drawing me even closer to his steady warmth. Those long fingers of his enclose my fidgeting ones in them.

There's no need to be so nervous and I know it. He's been nothing but a (extremely annoying at times) gentleman and from what I can tell, he has no intentions to be anything else.

I look up and give him a half smile. I don't try to decipher the look in his eyes.

"What do you want to do?" I ask him quietly.


	57. Chapter 57

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Dance. That's what he wanted to do.

I said, "There's no music."

He found some and something to play it on.

I said, "There's no space."

He made some by pushing the couch against the wall.

I said, "I don't know how." (I was an orphan, who was going to teach me?)

He said, "It's as easy as breathing. Especially with me," and he winked.

I gave in. He smiles. So that's what we did.

Every once in a while, he'd spin me out in front of him or dip me over his arm to make me gasp or giggle. But we're quiet now. Just taking each other in.

At this point we're just swaying in a circle. My arms are wrapped tight around his waist, my head is on his chest. His arms hold me tight against him, his entire body cradling me. His head rests on top of mine as we listen to Etta James croon.

 _You smiled and then the spell was cast_

 _And here we are in Heaven_

 _For you are mine at last_


	58. Chapter 58

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I don't think I've actually witnessed a night here. I've been here for only a few days and a portion of that I was unconscious. I was beginning to think these perfect days were eternal. The setting sun set the room on fire with its orange light. Purple clouds drifted on along the horizon as the sky shifted from its brilliant blue to the dusty purples, pinks, and oranges.

When the sun and vestiges of color finally disappeared, the night creeped in. Stars started to appear like pinpricks in the blue-black. The full moon lit up the sky, brightening the atmosphere.

Lit up our room as we fell asleep in each other's arms.


	59. Chapter 59

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

"I have a surprise for you." There's childlike excitement being exuded from every pore in his body.

I raise a brow in question.

"It'll be fun, I promise. We have to meet up with Carlisle and Esme."

"Do I have to close my eyes too?" I ask, half joking.

"Nope, not necessary."

I lace my fingers in his outstretched hand, not even bothering to fight the smile that appears when he almost literally drags me out of the house.


	60. Chapter 60

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

We cut through Esme and Carlisle's backyard (with them), venturing through the woods behind it. There's a barely visible path that opens up into a wide open field after about five minutes. It's about the size of a football field with an assortment of wildflowers are in full bloom, dotting the green with pinks, purples, blues, whites, and yellows.

Edward looks like he's going to burst.

"What are we doing?" I finally ask.

"We're going to teach you how to fly," Carlisle tells me.

"These wings are for more than looking pretty," Edward interjects.

Now, I'm not afraid of heights, but flying? No way in hell. I will not be leaving the nice, stable ground for longer than it takes me to jump. Nope, not happening.

I think they could read it on my face.


	61. Chapter 61

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

I recognize the glint in Edward's eyes and that look on his face. It's the same one he had after he carried me through that portal.

"Don't you dare," I warn him. He stalks me as I take a few steps backwards. I even throw myself on the ground to make it harder for him to grab me, but he still manages.

I find myself flung over his shoulder for the second time in less than a week. All I can do is watch in horror and shriek as he spreads and lifts those might, mottled wings, crouching down to leap as they streak down in a brown and white blur.

"Edward, I'm going to kill you!" The ground gets further and further away with each beat of his wings until I'm stuck clinging to his shoulders like a frightened little kitten.

He just laughs at me.

His arm shifts from the back of my legs to wrap around my waist, dragging me down the front of him. I wrap my legs tightly around him and my arms constrict around his neck.

"I hate you," I tell him grumpily. He pretends to drop me and I screech right in his ear, earning even more laughter.


	62. Chapter 62

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Edward flew us in giant circles above the field, way above even the tallest of the trees. I relaxed to soothing beat of his wings, the wind blowing around us, and just being surrounded by him. I probably could've taken a nap right there in his arms, but I didn't trust him enough to believe he wouldn't pretend to drop me again.

Even Esme giggled when I stumbled around after he landed and put me down. He laughed at my glare and dodged my elbow. _Jerk._

Eventually they tried to coach me into flying on my own. I tried to remember and mimic what Edward did, but I'm unaccustomed to moving my _very large_ and _very heavy_ wings. My movements were clumsy and slow, leading me to lose my balance more often than I even got my feet inches off the ground.

I'm tired, my back and shoulders and muscles I'm pretty sure I didn't have originally are sore, and I'm frustrated.

I lay on the ground again, this time to show that I'm quitting.

"This isn't fun," I grumble.


	63. Chapter 63

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

 **Esme**

Progress.

It's a fickle thing.

It comes by ostentatiously or inconspicuously. Fast as lightning or slow as molasses. It swallows things whole or evades them entirely.

Our Bella's progress has been more of the molasses sort.

When it comes to flying, she's fallen to the dirt every time her wings have failed her. She's stumbled and hurt each moment, she's cried and sweat and even bled a bit (by fault of scraping her knees on a few sharp pebbles).

What she doesn't see is that each day her wings are stronger, her legs and back are stronger. Each stroke of her wings is more powerful and less painful than the last. It took her just a week to hold herself aloft feet above the ground. Only two to fly to the top of the statuesque trees lining the clearing.

She's made progress with Edward as well, or rather, he with her.

They're rarely apart and constantly in contact with each other. Little touches in every moment; fingers twisting the other's hair, a hand on a shoulder-back-arm-waist-face, lingering embraces, feet touching under the table. It all seems so natural between them.

They think they're subtle.

Carlisle gives me knowing glances when he catches the longing in their eyes. I see how eyes flutter to lips and then away, thinking about the next kiss, or maybe the last.

We've all been given this extra chance at life. We all deserve this happiness, our little pieces of heaven with our significant others and all of us as a family.

I may not know how I got to this life, but I thank God for every moment of it.

* * *

 **AN**

Everything's a metaphor. Maybe not everything, but a lot of things. This kind of seems like an ending. It's not. Yet. Kinda bridging because I feel like it's being drawn out a bit.

My twenty year old's life? Hectic. Fell in love (read: currently obsessed) with _The Raven Cycle_ by Maggie Stiefvater, some of my clothes are making my skin itch and/or break out, I'm avoiding my boyfriend, and I accidentally texted an absolutely-horrible-for-me ex back because I didn't realize it was him until it was too late. I might've screamed. Definitely blocked his number. Decided to say, "Peace out!" to the real world and found my way back to this one. Who doesn't like late night updates?

Thank you all for your support.

Cannibal


	64. Chapter 64

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

 **Bella**

I've had my first kiss. It only took twenty three- or is it twenty four?- years and my own death to receive.

Edward likes to dance every night after dinner. He procures the music; the slow, crooning songs he was partial to in the 1920s.

" _Reminds me of when I was truly alive,"_ he'd said wistfully.

So every night we dance. Sometime it's like the first, where he twirls and dips me until all I can do is laugh. Others it's slow and peaceful. We're content to just hold each together and sway to the music.

It was one of those times that it happened. A kiss on top of my head. My forehead, mt cheek, my nose, my chin, my mouth. Stolen before I could even react.

I tilted my head back anyway as a silent invitation to do it again. He did; again and again until all I could focus on was him him _him._


	65. Chapter 65

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

It's so easy to languish in our bed in the mornings. The steady heat of Edward sleeping next to me is a solace to the soreness in my muscles from my tortuous lessons. There's always a smile on my face when I stretch in place and then get up to start the day.

He makes it all worth it.

Soon we'll have to wake up with purpose. Edward has to return to his duties at the beginning of next week and Carlisle plans to inform me of mine later today.

I brush my teeth, take a quick shower, and get dressed before heading down to make breakfast.

My frame has filled out from the exercise and ample food, mostly courtesy of Esme, and I've found great joy in exploring the kitchen and cooking with no limits. It's even sweeter when Edward scarfs it all down.

Chocolate chip muffins, quiche, bacon, and pancakes, I decide on for this morning. He'll have about half of it gone himself, claiming to be a growing boy _of course_ , and I'm sure Carlisle and Esme will have quite an appetite when they get here.


	66. Chapter 66

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

Edward wraps his arms around my waist while I'm trying to flip a pancake. It almost falls off the spatula when he startles me.

"You jerk." I slap his arm half heartedly. He chuckles in my ear.

"Smells good," he mutter while trailing kisses down my neck. Each one sends a trail of sparks down my spine. I just want to melt into a puddle of goo…

I whirl around and push his back a bit. "Stop distracting me."

"Do I get a good morning kiss?" I narrow my eyes at the pout on his lips before sighing and reaching up on my toes to pack that pout. He grabs my waist and pulls me back into him, capturing my lips in a deep kiss.

With that, I am completely consumed in him. I drop the spatula on the floor so my fingers can grip his bare shoulder and the short hair at the nape of his neck. I feel my feet leave the floor before I'm sitting amongst my mess on the countertop. Him in between my legs. His hands up my shirt. I whimper and press myself further into him. We're close but somehow not close enough.

There aren't enough words to describe the effect he has on me. His kisses are full and deep, that tongue teasing and tasting, teeth nibbling my lips, just sucking the air from my lungs to fill me with him instead. Never ending waves on a sandy shore, completely saturating the beach with its seductive grace. It's passionate and desperate and so loving at the same time, like it's the only way he can really show me how he feels.

And then I smell a burning pancake.

"Edward!" I admonish. "I told you not to distract me!"

"I'm sorry I'm irresistible," he says with a not very sorry look on his face. I just roll my eyes adn turn off the burner.


End file.
